Prince Fergus Boghole
Fergus is an Oeridian man that drifted into Ironstead when he was, near as he can reckon, fifteen years old with naught but the rags on his back, a mostly empty jug of wine, and a story of trial and tribulation. To hear him tell it, he'd once lead a charmed life as the only son of the once esteemed House of Boghole, far from Ironstead. Oh, what an honored line it was, the line of Boghole, but its honor was not enough against the foul ranks of Iuz. Heironeous himself must've wept with pride at the sight of brave Prince Angus, clad in his shining coat of mail, as he bid his young son away to safer lands while he and his warriors made a final stand fit for legend, were there only one on hand with the skill to record it, if only to reduce the numbers of the foe so other people of Furyondy might live on. 'Twas the last Fergus knew of his father, and his old home. His mother had died of a fever when he was but a wee lad, and he'd been the only hope for the line to go on. The name of Boghole mustn't be lost to history, though its lands and fortunes may have been, and Fergus swore that he'd hear folk speak of it with its due reverence again one day. Of course, Fergus hadn't a shred of proof for the folks of Ironstead of his lineage other than a complete lack of aptitude for most productive endeavors. But he didn't cause trouble, at least not of a serious kind, and always had a kind word for everyone. This didn't mean that more than one old man farmer hadn't chased him from their daughter's beds, nor that he didn't have a love for drink when he could get it, but he managed to get along all the same. When Ironstead's guards were slain, and Old One Tusk and his bandits moved in, he used his wit and charm to help set up an ambush on the drunken occupiers, having grown fond of this town he'd drifted into and never left. The next day, when the crimson-clad hobgoblin attacked with his goblinoid army, Fergus took up arms again. With the sword of a fallen knight in his untrained hands, he left a large scar on the hobgoblin's face and barely survived. In the aftermath, Fergus decided to join the Wood Elves in fighting back the goblins, both out of a desire to keep Ironstead safe from further harm and to settle unfinished business with the hobgoblin. It was during this time, under circumstances he has been consistently vague about, that Fergus managed to produce proper proof of his noble lineage, and formally declared himself Prince of the resurrected House of Boghole and began travelling with a tall and musclebound warrior woman named Vira, carrying the longsword that he used to scar the hobgoblin. With Ironstead absent any sort of leader, he managed to go from beggar to a sort of mayor, being the only noble around with such designs. Now in his element, he commenced the setting up of the old mustering hall of the Knights of the Hart as a fine feast hall and brothel known as Boghall, where he still spends a great deal of his time. He puts a high a value on the happiness of Boghall's ladies and its patrons, treating its prestige as hand in hand with his noble name. His first taste of real sorrow in his new life came when Vira fell in battle during the Heroes' second encounter with the scar-faced Hobgoblin. She'd been something a bit more for him than most of the women he shared his time with, and it was a good while before he was himself again. The sting of her loss was made all the worse by finding shortly after that Thaaro, his former fighting companion and friend, no longer saw him as an ally after Fergus did a mystical bit of card drawing in the forest. With the springing into existence of Saltwood Fortress and Vestra being recognized as the ruler of Ironstead, Prince Boghole didn't challenge it. He is now focusing on doing what he can to make certain that Saltwood Fortress, Ironstead, and Boghall all succeed together. He sits happily in his estate or at Boghall between excursions, accompanied by his new (shorter) bodyguard Adeline, and does his level best to make sure everyone in Ironstead is having a good time.